


Insomniac

by CherryDott



Category: Avenue Q - Lopez/Marx
Genre: in the beginning it is, its kinda rod and nicky, oh boy, pretty damn painfully onesided, ya gotta wait
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-02
Updated: 2018-07-06
Packaged: 2019-04-17 02:41:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14178759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CherryDott/pseuds/CherryDott
Summary: All those nights, I lay in bed, thoughts of you running through my head. I will no doubt write more.





	1. Don't think about him

Silence. The silence made him aware of just how loud it was if you paid attention. Laying as quietly as he could manage, he ignored cars rushing in the distance, the faint buzzing of what he didn’t care to know about on a Saturday night. A Sunday morning? Ticking from an analog clock was ear-shatteringly loud in the dark room for someone so awake that every sense of everything in his surroundings was fine-tuned, Rod would be able to hear if someone upstairs dropped a pin. He sat up with a groan that gradually dulled into a scoff. Both hands rising to his face as a long and overdue yawn left him, they sank back to his face, pulling upwards until long, cerulean fingers tangled in painfully contrasting ginger hair and tugged. Letting go, his hands plopped back down and he threw aside covers and a crumpled top sheet, tossing his legs over the side of the bed and standing. Almost afraid he would wake Nicky up, his neck fell to the side before he could stop it and it made a cringing crack, repeating the action and sighing in bliss before his hand hit the top of the nightstand and he found his glasses through dark and bleary vision.

  
Adjusting the lenses to his face, he glanced at the clock and almost groaned again when he saw it was 4:28 AM. He was already up, why the hell try and go back right away? He grabbed his phone and turned it on, angling it to the floor to make sure he didn’t step on anything Nicky left there. Irresponsible, irritating, tiring, messy, kind, amazing, wonderful- _stop thinking about him._

  
He’d made his way into their small kitchen and grabbed a glass, filling it with tap water about halfway, knocking it back and setting it back down before wandering back to the bedroom in the dark. He settled back in but kept his glasses on for one shameful reason. Nicky had turned over in his sleep while he was out, and he almost thanked God for one dim street light that allowed him to see his face. _Thank god? Really? No no no no-_ There was the same feeling, right on cue. It felt like his chest hurt, internally. For lack of better term, it felt like a swarm of butterflies in his stomach. It didn’t hurt, but it felt more uncomfortable than anything he’d measure in his life. As much as he hated the two sensations combined, he loved them embarrassingly just as much. Watching with interest, he listened to him slowly start to murmur and mutter mixed up words that he couldn’t decipher.

  
An hour passed. He spent it dreamily fantasizing of course, still turned to face his roommate. It never lasted long enough for him to enjoy it. Morning after morning, it was always the same. The fluttering in his chest turned into a stabbing regret, taking off his glasses and throwing them back to the nightstand, rolling back over the face the wall. A burnt sepia sunrise he should’ve enjoyed was his least favorite sight every single day because right on cue, Nicky stirring awake followed it as sunlight washed out his dark and quiet world all to himself. That dream-like state was obliterated far faster than it came. How do you quit dreaming when you never fell asleep in the first place?


	2. Coffee and Secrets

He woke from a typical nightmare with a deep gasp. Here he was, back again at Sunday morning. It felt like time had stopped for the few seconds that he rubbed his eyes and shifted in his bed, until he inevitably realized that he’d slept in until 11:37 in the morning. Different from his usual crisp and excruciating hell of six o'clock in the morning on any old weekday, he heard the occasional sign of life from other apartments, and the ones in his own. Listening to the sounds created by his roomate no doubt, the details of his nightmare faded away the longer he stayed awake and came back to reality fully. 

He followed an almost identical routine to his much earlier waking-up protocol he used a bit after the witching hour, but a tad more aggressive. Throwing the blanket aside, harshly rubbing his eyes and standing while grabbing his hips to pop and relieve tension in his back, signing blissfully afterward and slowing down dramatically. Sunday’s had no need for his work routine, but he needed to change. He grabbed his glasses and set them gently on his face, pushing up with one finger while heading the short distance to his dresser. He crouched and pulled out a drawer to scan his options. A Sunday… the forecast he looked over yesterday told that “it should be hot by now, and Nicky would've cranked the AC, acting like he pays for it… since it’s already cold in here, something long would be better suited,” he thought to himself. He grabbed a white shirt and some dark grey slacks. Also routine, he shut and locked the bedroom door, notifying Nicky that he was up. 

Nicky sighed very softly to himself and smiled hearing the familiar slam and click. In the kitchen, he had already started a pot of coffee, cleaned up any mess he made to his standards, gotten out the appropriate mugs both used, and pulled himself up to sit on the counter. 

From Nicky’s invention, Sunday’s were the time that the two spent together to do anything planned or unplanned. “Personal Day,” Nicky calls it, invented only a year or so after Rod had gotten a much busier job. Nothing too interesting was always planned, they mainly just put on something to watch and talked. Sometimes both read, Nicky delving into a stash of comic books or Harry Potter while Rod read god knows what, most likely the paper or something related to Broadway or history. It was nice when one spoke up to point out something interesting or amusing in whichever form of literature, but Rod tried to refrain from becoming irritated when it took place about “this hot chick” in a magazine. Monday through Friday was a tight schedule from seven to six thirty, getting home at seven o’five sharp on any regular day. They had time to eat, chat, and clean up before Rod “went to sleep”. Nicky tries to be oblivious about Rod’s insomnia, but only assumes that he reads or simply can’t get to sleep during the night. It troubled him to think about it, so he didn’t speculate very often. Then again, it’s always only a picturesque dark room with a sliver of light from the outside, so how would he read? 

He shook his head and cleared his thoughts of all that when the coffee pot made a small beep to indicate that it was finished. His ears perked a little hearing the door creak open, quickly sliding off the counter before Rod saw him and the morning would get off on a bad foot. Little did Nicky know, Rod knew he did that whenever he thought he wasn’t watching. He chooses to pretend like he doesn’t know just to see how Nicky acts when he feels he isn’t watching. 

“Morning, sleeping beauty,” Nicky taunted, unaware of the redhead’s redder flush at that while he faced the coffee pot. 

“Morning,” Rod greeted slowly, yawning and slipping an arm around his roomate to grab his mug. Despite the taunting he received, the mug he used most often was gold with the hamilton design on it in black. Yes, he enjoyed the production very much, but he kept using it for the fact that it was a gift from Nicky. 

“Did you have anything planned for today?” Nicky asked, making his coffee sweet enough to barely be classified as coffee.

“No, I just thought we were going to watch some TV,” Rod said, pouring his mug to the rim and taking a sip of pure black coffee that made Nicky wince. 

“Well, no time like the present!” The brunet declared, strutting into the living room and setting his mug on the coffee table which gave him freedom to make the unnecessary leap to stand on top of the couch with the remote in hand. He switched it on, Rod circled around the couch and sat down, while Nicky plopped down fast enough to make the other flustered from almost spilling coffee. Both sat down in relaxed silence. 

Rod yawned again, and proceeded to take a long and drawn out drink of coffee. 

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m just tired, Nicholas. Anyone in their right mind would be tired in the morning,” Rod languidly replied, still clutching his mug in both hands like a lifeline. 

“Maybe if you slept a little better at night, you wouldn’t be so tired. It’s noon, Rod,” he said with unease. 

“I sleep just fine.”

“You don’t have to get all defensive, I’m just stating fact. I don’t know what you do but it can’t be more important than a good night’s rest.”

“I am not getting defensive,” Rod said through gritted teeth, “what I do at night is not your concern. Would I ever keep a secret from you?”

Both knew that was a blatant lie. “I don’t want to pry, but I know that you don’t read every night. The lamp wakes me up, no matter how dim you think it is. I’m just worried is all.”

“There are things I can’t say and won’t. You know that.” Rod was already uncomfortable and refused to show it as much as he was able.

“Is that it? Fine, here it goes. I steal your socks when none of mine are clean, use your shampoo when I’m out, I use your towel to dry my hands, I sit on the counter when I know you’ve told me not to, I got a girlfriend once and didn’t tell you, I put my feet on the coffee table when you’re not home-” Rod promptly interrupted him. 

“Stop, a girlfriend? When was this?” He sounded stern, but a slight wavering was detectable in his voice. 

“I didn’t want to tell you because it only lasted about a month and wasn’t that serious. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable…” He stopped and realized what he said wrong after he said it. 

Both sat in a couple seconds of silence that seemed like they lasted centuries. 

“Why would I be uncomfortable? Rod said with apprehension, he knew damn full well why he would be uncomfortable. 

“You always act… like that. Every time when I even mention something about some girl, it’s like your soul jumps out of your body.” Nicky sat quietly and Rod mirrored his silence. So much for starting off on the right foot. 

Rod’s eyes widened when he saw on Nicky’s expression that he was slowly piecing things together. The second that Nicky turned back to him with wide eyes of realization, Rod stood up from the couch and disappeared into the bedroom faster than he could piece together his words. 

He felt like an idiot for taking that long to think that the other had feelings for him, but couldn’t even grasp that yet. Just before he could reach the door handle to wrench it open, he heard that familiar click as it was quickly locked. He needed to get inside and try to make this right, but how would he get him to open the door?

No nightmare Rod could ever have could compare to this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cliff hanger because I'm a bitch, i'll work on it very soon though.


End file.
